I was drifting along Madison Avenue, looking for inspiration to write a poem on the world of Luxury, when I saw bright lights coming from a manicured corner building on 73rd Street.

The good thing about having long hair and a beard is that everybody takes you for a celebrity in hiding, and I was immediately greeted inside by the PR assistants checking their lists.

Soon I understood that I was at the preview of Paola Pivi’s inaugural show at Galerie Perrotin, and remembered that I had actually been invited.

Following is my special report, brought to you more than two weeks after the event.

At Unknown’s headquarters, we don’t think information should be Tweeted in a hurry, but rather we pride ourselves on patiently knitting our posts together with organic wool, just like a long winter scarf or an oversized beanie hat.

The metal sculpture was spitting out one dollar bills and coins to the delight of art world guests and patrons. A reminder that no other investment throws back money more spectacularly than art (if purchased and sold in a timely fashion).

Art conversation.

Cutting through the crowd, I tripped on a bear’s rear paw.

Although apparently made out of plush feathers, I was nearly knocked down by a low kick in the shinbone by the angular steel bar structure of the bear leg.

In case I had been tempted to cuddle Paola’s sculptures, I was abruptly reminded that true art stands in discomfort when it doesn’t simply hurt.

Fashion Weeks are always a struggle: it’s challenging for the body, but also for the mind, which could be deeply affected. Inflated ego or lost of self-esteem, tantrums, insomnia, and combat stress syndrome are not uncommon.

This cannot be stressed enough: a Navy Seal is a real wimp compared to an experienced Fashion person. I remember Hamish Bowles once telling of his experience as a participant in am American wilderness Training Survival Camp (I think he did it as an assignment for US Vogue), and how big macho types started sobbing on the second day, while he smoothly cruised through the entire trek. No wonder that when you’re used to navigate the Fashion crowd, angry snakes or enraged bears are nothing in comparison. And one would rather drink from a pond contaminated with animal droppings than from your Fashion show neighbor’s abandoned bottled water.

Here are my own tips on how to behave in such situations, while remaining yourself.

1- Be ready to strike a pose for the herd of Fashion bloggers waiting at the entrance of the show. I personally use airplane bathroom mirrors for rehearsal.

2- Adopt the Pitti Uomo walk, also known as the Milanese walk. This particular walk has been largely popularized by The Sartorialist. Look back at his archives for the appropriate gesture.

3- If you’re commuting by foot, it’s not a bad idea to start looking absorbed by your important thoughts at least 10 blocks away. A Fashion blogger could be waiting in ambush, and you want to give him the busy-as-hell-while-amazingly-dressed shot that will bring him 10 000 likes.

4- Acknowledge your best-dressed competitors by openly photographing them. Make sure they hear you whispering « how gorgeous !… », like you can’t keep it to yourself.

5- Unless you’re prominent within the Industry, being granted a good seat is always the harshest part. Don’t hesitate to bribe the PR assistants.

6- A true Fashion person doesn’t eat (or needs a pee in 12 hours) but you might more likely be starving to your death. Pack a lunch, and use the long waits before the shows to take a quick bite. The bonus : a vomit smelling melted cheese panini will give you extra room.

7- Lack of sleep, over-heated spaces, dull music, and especially tedious Fashion are the most common causes of patent drowsiness. Instead of uselessly fighting somnolence, indulge yourself with a 20 minutes nap.

8- Bored with the whole scene ? Make yourself useful as a dresser. This high-responsibility position will teach you a lot, while helping to keep the interest alive until the next Fashion week.

I was walking through the V & A museum in London, amazed by the David Bowie retrospective, and admiring the fantastic costumes and imagery chosen from the Bowie private archives when a thin, bare-chested creature with heavy make-up suddenly landed on the floor, as if falling from the ceiling.

– I’m amazed by your costumes. There is the Union Jack coat designed by Bowie and Alexander McQueen, and the striped body suit designed by Kansai Yamamoto, which makes Comme des Garçons looking almost conservative. What do you think of Fashion today?

– I don’t know. I went to Uniqlo today, but didn’t find anything I could wear. Everything looks outrageous on me.

– Did you try Prada?

– Oh, I know Prada. We also have Prada stores on Mars.

– You were so advanced for your time, I mean, this androgynous look of yours… how was it to be a bisexual space man on earth in 1972?

– Well, I thought everyone was a bisexual. But more than that, I was a new type of Rock Star. As Bowie said, “I always had a repulsive need to be something more that human.”

I was kindly invited by Bookmarc in LA to do a book signing at the Art Book Fair, so Dung (the founder and CEO of August Editions) and I flew to LA, where we landed on a glorious sunny afternoon.

While Dung was heading to a vintage prefab house designed by Walter Gropius in the Hollywood Hills where he was weekending with some friends, I took the shuttle to the Hertz rental.

And here is my insider tip to LA: do not rent a car!

Traffic is insane, and car rental is expensive. Do you want to be stuck for hours with no other distraction than scanning through 50 Spanish radios on the FM band? Rent a bike instead. But get a GPS from Hertz. Yes, just the GPS, but not the car.

Once settled in my beach motel, I stroll down Venice to rent one of those cruise bikes.

Don’t make the mistake of assuming that the most tattooed guy will give you the best deal. Try different ones, and ask for their weekend packages. Some offers a surfboard on a trailer behind for another 5 bucks. Not to be missed.

Don’t even consider mountain bikes, go for the cruise: you ‘re almost on your back like in a dentist seat, and when you pedal, your knees climb higher than your chin which is very relaxing, on flat grounds at least.

I had not realized that there are some slight uphill inclines from the beach to the Geffen Contemporary, where the LA Art Book Fair is, and somehow these cruisers are heavier than you would think, and well, they have big tires too. I was missing the pencil-width wheels on my Brooklyn fixed gear when, with night falling, the GPS started repeating the good news of “approaching destination.”.

I had never been to the Geffen, but I was surprised they could fit a whole Art Book Fair in a tiny house, although it was endless rows of houses of a similar architecture, while each ones customized. It was not impossible than the Fair would spread in several pavilions, and knowing AA Bronson, the artist and founder of General Idea and organizer of the book fair event, you just assume that some unusual and challenging concept might be take place.

Knocking with high anticipation at the first door, it was not long after that I was pedaling away at maximum speed, closely followed by 2 enraged pit bulls. It turns out that I added an extra zero to the address on my GPS, and ended up in South Central LA.

It was late when I finally made to the Geffen, after circling the block several times in search of a safe parking spot for my bike.

I ran into the fair, hoping for some sandwiches and a glass of Champagne as I was starving from the intense exercise..

Spotting AA, I asked him where the buffet was, (promising to go straight to the art books and zones after eating), but it was closing time, and all he could do was to recommend a sushi restaurant in nearby Little Tokyo, “Better than in Japan,” he added.

A limited edition signed print of this snapshot of AA and me can be purchased from Bookmarc LA

I was rather surprised because my first collection of poems, Found Love letters and Unread Poems from the Trash Room, self-published 35 years ago, is still available

(Interested? Free bicycle delivery in the greater Brooklyn area).

– So, what is August Editions going to do? How about selling my old collected poems instead?

– The poems are interesting, but… uh, maybe another time. Actually, a new edition of a 1000 copies of The Unknown Hipster Diaries is already in the works, it will be available around March next year. And it will have a new picture of you on the cover.

– What about an abstract image? Or a photo of some weed growing freely out of a Bushwick sidewalk?

– Uh… How was the exhibition opening of your illustrations at Colette?

– It was cool, and…yes, Balthus, was there.

– Balthus?

– Yes, he is very cute.

– Balthus, like the painter?

– Balthus Billy Zahm, Olivier and Natacha’s baby, don’t you check the Purple Diary everyday? I think it was Balthus first opening, Natacha said so.

– You must be very honored!

– Woody came early, though, needed some sleep.

– Woody?

– Yes, Sarah and Philippe’s baby. He is very cute too. And very well-dressed. Cool socks. What is that loud music behind you? Are you at a party?

I guess it was not too complicated for her. Every week, she selects ensembles for the women’s floor that make you feel like you’re walking through Picassos and Lichtensteins. I never stay too long because I feel I might fall in love with a speechless mannequin, just because of the intricate patterns and inspired fabric colors it’s dressed in.

And now, thanks to Colette, you can really dress like a page out of the Diaries : From Book to Fashion

An exhibition of originals drawings from The Unknown Hipster Diaries and large prints in limited edition of 10, opens Monday 10th December at Colette, and I’ll be signing books on Saturday 15th December from 16:00 to 18:00.

Dung called me the other day, as they had just received a large crate at August Editions.

“Did you order a large travel trunk from Vuitton for your next steamliner crossing to Europe?” I asked. We opened it, and there it was, the thousand copies of the Diaries, meticulously stacked, with a note from the printer: “Who the hell is the Unknown Hipster?”

The book looks great.

Its beige cloth cover works well with every kind of upholstered interior, and would bring a touch of warmth to any spare, minimalist pad. The pages’ irregular edges seem to have been cut with a guitar pick, but I know Dung is way too busy to do this himself. In fact, don’t know how this was done.

And the design, done by Martine – a yoga expert – is very cool. It makes for a relaxing read without having to be in a precarious headstand. And if you’re a yoga-obsessed and feel the urge to practice without having your mat at hand, the book can be used as extra padding for your headstand.

Because of the large number of inquiries, please refer to our “Frequently Asked Questions About the Book”:

– Do you have to be a snob to enjoy The Unknown Hipster Diaries?

The book is made for all: snobs, and unsnobs.*

– I don’t have a long beard and a long hair, do you think I’ll be interested by this book?

In fact, we don’t know. Are you a woman ?* The book is multi-gender friendly.

– I’m a hispter with a roof-top pig farm and organic greeneries, can I trade my products for a copy ?

I was eating a burger and writing poetry at the Old Town Bar when my friend Dung, who works nearby in publishing came in, returning as always from his travels to Europe, where he hops from Biennales to design fairs, meeting famous designers and fashion celebrities, and private visits to architecture gems such Oscar Niemeyer’s French Communist Party Headquarters in Paris.

– Hey Unknown, I think the time has come for you to do a book.

– Really? I’d rather do a record. My Unknown Suite for voice and electrified tambourine is almost ready. Do you want to listen to the demo tape? It’s only 120 minutes long.

– Hmm, I’m sure the music is great, but right now I think a book is more appropriate. And a new publishing house, August Editions, wants to publish it.

– Well… You see, I don’t want my stuff to become too commercial.

– We’re would do a limited edition of only 1,000 numbered copies.

– What would be the title?

– How about The Unknown Hipster Diaries?

– Shouldn’t it just be called The Unknown Diaries? People hate hipsters, especially other hipsters. At my Bushwick subway station somebody wrote over a Planned Change Service Notice at the end of the platform: “F*** the hipsters, they ruined Brooklyn,” and it’s illustrated with a crude drawing of a dude with beard and frames.

– But, Unknown, you’re not really a hipster…

– No, in fact, I never was.

– Of course. Still, I think we should keep the title The Unknown Hipster Diaries.